


Helpless

by HowardR



Category: Amphibia (Cartoon)
Genre: (maybe), Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Redemption, Swordfighting, Swordplay, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:00:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR
Summary: Sasha Waybright woke up in the woods next to Wartwood, and spent a night in a cave.She swore never to be helpless again.(A Sasha character study hidden inside a character swap fic.)
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. Prologue: Anne's Very Useful Backpack

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sasha and the Frogs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19987681) by [Scrabbleauthor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrabbleauthor/pseuds/Scrabbleauthor). 



Sasha Waybright was sleeping in a cave.

Now, mind you, this wasn’t exactly something  _ common _ for her. Not even a little, actually. Shocking, she knew - people usually sleep where they usually sleep, but this happened to be an unusual evening.

She was sleeping in a cave.

A  _ cave. _

The worst part -  _ easily _ the worst part - was that that wasn’t even the weirdest thing about the situation.

A millipede (or centipede - she didn’t quite have time to count the legs) the size of her leg crawled on the cave wall, and started doing what looked alarmingly like sizing her up and deciding if she was worth eating.

Her eyes darted up and down her surroundings.

A rock, sitting on the ground. Maybe a fallen stalactite (or stalagmite - she had never dedicated mind space to knowing the difference), considering it was fairly sharp.

She scooped it up slowly, one eye on the bug that still seemed to be peering at her.

She lunged.

The thing had a chunk of stone in it before it had time to dive - though it sure as hell tried to. It struggled wildly, and Sasha spent a moment to acknowledge that bugs went down just as hard when they were big as the small ones did.

If there had ever been anything to admire about bugs, it was that, even when their whole abdomen was squashed, those weird, gross legs still twitched.

Frankly, it pissed her off. If something was big enough to break your legs, then it should die when you stab it. That was just how the world worked - deal with it, centipede.

But the mystery-ipede clearly hadn’t read the rule book, because it kept struggling. Sasha dug the stone harder into the putrid flesh, now leaking some thick dark green liquid. The beast made a high-pitched, awful sound, and Sasha was done with this guy.

She leaned over and scooped up a thick, not-too-heavy rock with her other hand, still keeping the beast pinned and in pain with the stone spike.

She crushed its head with a single, brutal movement.

The legs twitched only a few times before the thing finally went still.

“Pick on someone your own size next time.” She hissed under her breath, as she pulled the now stained rock out.

The thing spurted a bit of probably-bug-blood, but it wasn’t powerful enough to hit her. Luckily. Her clothes might already be half-ruined, but she didn’t particularly want bug blood on her face.

She was  _ already _ done being in this damn place.

But the box wasn’t doing anything useful, and she wasn’t stupid enough to think that that might’ve changed in the last half-hour.

She peered outside.

_ Damn. _

The bug hadn’t just been looking for food. Stormclouds were gathering. It was looking for a safe spot to rest ahead of time.

Which meant that other bugs would be following. Soon.

She needed a sure-fire way to defend herself.

...Well. The answer was right there.

Fire.

She opened Anne’s bag, rummaging around in it for something (anything, Anne,  _ anything _ that isn’t just trashy love magazines,  _ anything  _ useful) that could start a fire. A lighter, maybe.

If she had ended up with  _ her _ bag, this wouldn’t be a problem, but she hadn’t brought it with her when they skipped school, which meant that her lighter was still sitting in that science classroom.

Nobody better have robbed her, or she would be bringing hell when she got back.

_ Nothing. _

_ Nothing _ useful, not even any food - those trashy magazines would make decent kindling, but without fire, kindling was just flammable crap. She had Anne’s phone, but the charge on that thing wouldn’t last long if she used it as a flashlight - and even if she did, that wouldn’t keep her safe and alive when giant bugs started camping with her.

Oh god, were there giant  _ spiders? _

_ Really not the time to be wondering about that, Sash. _

She needed something to get her a fire - even if she did manage to survive the night, she wouldn’t get far without food, and she needed fire to get that, too - she certainly wasn’t eating raw bug, she’d  _ definitely _ die.

_ Come on, what gets you fire other then a lighter? _

She wasn’t stupid enough to do that rub two sticks together schtick - she didn’t even  _ have _ two sticks, she’d have to go outside to get that, and she wasn’t risking meeting up with that mantis again.

_ Gas, duh, but we don’t have that - flint, maybe? But I’d have to risk going deeper into the cave to get that, and we don’t know what’s down there, might as well just die without the fire and live a little longer then die to a giant spider deeper in this hovel… and even if we did risk it, there’s no guarantee there’s any flint down there, and even if there is, no guarantee that we can get it out and back up… _

She just needed to survive through this night. By daylight, she could risk going outside again and find something more reliable to start a fire with.

_ What else, what else…? _

_ Well, there are electrical fires, but there’s no… _

She looked back in the bag.

...At Anne’s phone.

That had charge.

_...Anne, if you’re out there, you better not do this shit to my phone, if you have it. _

* * *

Getting the back off a phone without a screwdriver was  _ hard. _

But she had managed it, with a very thin rock and a little creativity.

Lucky that Anne’s phone was old enough and had been dropped enough that the back came off easier then her phone’s would’ve.

She peered at the mess of microchips and miniscule wires.

...Okay, it had been dumb, but she hadn’t expected it to be this complex. The more obvious kind of wire was what she had imagined, with insulation and all. A whole mess of them, maybe, but easier to start a fire with.

And the battery.

She hit the power button, staring at the phone for any sign of a spark.

...Nothing.

_ Damn. _

* * *

It was getting dark. Luckily, the rain hadn’t started yet, but she had been forced to fend off a few bugs.

She stared at the foil-covered tin of food that had been in Anne’s bag with a shrewd, calculating eye.

_ Hm. _

* * *

She had a spark.

It had been tiny. It hadn’t even hit anything flammable. But some saliva, some foil, and a lot of experimentation, led to a spark.

She, very carefully, put the slightly wet foil to the same spot again.

_ Spark. _

She grinned, wide, pleased, and triumphant.

It was a start.

* * *

The second the scrap of magazine page on the floor finally lit, she scrambled to grab another page - a whole page, this time.

She held it desperately to the flame, only being careful not to smother the tiny thing - the tiny thing that was her savior.

The page lit.

The fire began to spread.

She was saved.

* * *

When the sun came up, Sasha had burned every single one of Anne’s magazines, the fire was long since out, she had managed to stomach a chunk of slightly burnt bug meat, she had a bite mark from one of the braver beasts that had tried to camp with her, her clothes were stained with putrid green liquid, and she had never felt worse in her life.

She had gotten maybe ten minutes of sleep, total.

What she wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee.

Or a lighter.

Still.

She had made it through the first night.

And the first night was always the hardest.

* * *

She dove into a hollow log, nearly screaming when a massive mantis claw dove in after her. She scrambled away, and managed to keep back.

What she wouldn’t do for a lighter. Or a knife. Or  _ anything. _

She had never been helpless.

She didn’t like it.

...She decided that she wouldn’t ever be helpless again, once this passed, as she ran out the log and dug something out of Anne’s bag.

She tossed a now-empty carton - whose foil covering had been her savior - straight at the thing’s eye.

It landed.

She had always been a decent shot.

The thing screeched, in what she could tell was more anger then pain.

She ran like hell.

* * *

She was lost in the woods.

It wasn’t fun.

* * *

This mantis was persistent, she’d give him that.

She would do anything for a weapon right about now.

* * *

She struck the rock brutally against the best stick she could find.

It might take hours - it was nearly noon already - but she would  _ have _ a weapon.

* * *

She had a weapon.

It  _ had _ taken hours. Well, _an_ hour, at least. This rock wasn’t the best tool for sharpening sticks, and she had been forced to start over a few times when it ended up breaking or something.

But now, she had a weapon. A wonky, crude weapon, to be sure - but a sharp weapon, that would kill nonetheless.

She twirled it once.

Time to kill her a mantis.

* * *

She ran.

Turns out that provoking a massive praying mantis wasn’t the best idea.

But she was going to kill this thing, and that was that.

She looked around, quick but not wild. Keeping her head was always important - she had never lost it in her life.

Analyze. Find what to manipulate, who to intimidate, which groups needed befriending and which needed to be made an example out of…

A fallen over log. Two close-together trees with fairly low, but sturdy branches. A mantis that was running full-speed at her.

She jumped.

_ Thanks, cheerleading. _

Step on the log.

Kick off that tree, hard as she could.

Grab a branch on the one next to it.

Swing,

_ Swing, _

_ Aim… _

Jump!

The mantis barely had time to try and stop before she was on it - weapon in hand, momentum careening her right at the thing’s undamaged eye, and with a feral grin on her face.

She  _ plunged _ her makeshift spear through her arch-enemy’s eye.

It screeched.

She hadn’t plunged hard enough.

She leaned back - and, right before the thing threw her off, threw her whole body weight, shoulder-first, into the spear.

It dug further in.

And the thing went limp.

_ Any brain damage, any at all, and the victim passes out. _

She leaped off him, and hit the ground  _ hard. _

The air rushed from her lungs. She tried, desperately, to breath in, but nothing came but whisps.

But it had just knocked the wind out of her.

She felt like she was dying - but she had won.

Victory had never been so sour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is my headcanon that Anne just laid very still and nothing tried to eat her, and that this wouldn't even occur to Sasha.
> 
> Remember that time Anne slept in a cave, and the show played it as a joke? Here's the serious version. 
> 
> Is this fic going to be Sashanne? Is our favorite Mean Girl going to get a redemption arc?
> 
> I have no idea - hence the tags. Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> With Love,
> 
> -Howard R.


	2. Sasha, Leaving the Goddamn Woods

Victory, she thought as she carefully struck the claw against her stick, was sweeter then expected.

Victory smelled like smoke.

She flipped her newfound torch experimentally, grinning at the reliable source of flame she now had on hand. That mantis must have a shell like flint - because striking a rock against it made a very reliable spark.

She peered around, looking for a spot devoid of any flammable grass.

Time to make her a campsite.

* * *

Victory, she learned, tasted like roasted bug meat.

Sweet, a little rotten, clearly unfit for human consumption, burnt on the edges and cold on the inside, and maybe the worst thing she had ever voluntarily finished eating.

Victory was supposed to be delicious.

Damn world, getting her expectations high only to swoop in and drop disappointment in her lap. In the form of smokey bug meat.

She just wanted to go home.

* * *

She had never slept like this.

She flitted in and out of consciousness, in a vague haze of unreality that never quite felt tangible. Rest, if you could call it that, came in wisps at best. Even when she was asleep, she half-felt the pressure of the silence around her, and she was on a hair trigger.

Thus, when the distant humming started filtering through the lonely woods, she sat up like a shot because _what._

_What._

_What._

_WHAT._

She yanked her spear from the ground with a single, brutal motion, and absently lit a stray branch as a torch in her other palm. She followed the distant sound until it grew clear enough that she could no longer convince herself she was dreaming, and she wasn’t sure whether to be pissed or thankful.

She held her hopes back, though.

She wouldn’t be helpless again. And hoping that the humming could be from something intelligent would leave her vulnerable to disappointment.

She simply prepared herself for anything, as she followed the sound.

Her foot hit a branch.

The crunch was like thunder.

The humming stopped.

“W-who’s there?”

And, just like that, every intelligent thought left her.

She stamped out the torch, and dove.

* * *

Wally screamed.

Alright, sure - the paranoid act was mostly fake, but he was _actually_ being attacked and he hadn’t even had a moment to prepare - he wouldn’t even get to tell the story of besting the beast, or sing a tragic tale as he died, or even get any dramatic last words-!

“No! DON’T EAT ME!!!!”

Ruthless, fleshy, too-warm hands pinned him to the ground, and something sharp and rough prodded at his throat.

Silence.

“...Oh.”

...That… was english.

Not beast sounds. _English._

He risked cracking a single eye open.

And screamed.

The screams cut off a moment later when the sharp something pressed against his throat, and he went dead silent in record time.

_Weird, gangly, fleshy, unnatural,_ _horrifying_ _._

The only thing normal about what peered at him was the eyes, and even those weren’t quite right.

_“Beast.”_ He whispered, and his tone came out both horrified and uncomprehending. Because what was staring at him was unlike anything he had ever seen - and, even if he had never been anywhere all that exotic and had never even met a newt in person, he still wasn’t exactly _happy_ about this.

The beast sneered in what looked like agitation, and he flinched back.

It just rolled its eyes.

“If I let you up, will you scream again?”

He blinked.

That was… not the voice he expected the beast to have.

If he had been forced to identify, he would’ve guessed it was female. It had hair that was tied back something like Mrs. Sundew’s, though a little less meticulously groomed. It was also speckled with grime, and greasy as all else. And its voice was oddly female too - sultry, sharp, a little cold.

He simply stared.

The beast raised an (seemingly) expectant eyebrow. “Well? Can you keep your mouth shut, talking frog?”

He furrowed his brow.

_Talking_ frog? That was a weird way of putting it. It technically wasn’t _wrong,_ but specifying that he talked felt unnecessary.

“...Yes.” He whispered, finally, barely choking the word out. He felt his throat bob as he swallowed, and it pressed against the sharp something still at his throat.

Instantly, like it didn’t want to be touching him, the beast let him go, and raised itself.

For a moment, Wally was tempted to run away and warn the townsfolk - it looked much more gangly at full height - but something in the beast’s eyes stopped him.

Something sharp, and warning.

It expected him to stay.

So, instead, he sat up and brushed himself off.

Stood up.

The beast was still nearly twice his height.

He shrunk back, a little - not the least because the beast was still glaring at him like he was a spare bit of grime caked on its feet.

Did it even have feet?

The beast raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re intelligent, then?”

He blinked at the odd question - but didn’t hesitate to answer under the creature’s steel glare.

“Not particularly, beast.” He said. He liked to think he was a humble sort.

The beast rolled its eyes again.

“You speak english. You must have a society, yes? What is it called, what is this land called, and how can we get back to civilization?”

He sorted through the questions for a moment, fear ebbing a bit.

“The nearest town is called Wartwood. This place is Amphibia, and we can just… walk down this here road?”

He gestured to the rocky trail he had followed.

The beast nodded.

“Thanks.”

And, with that, it began walking down the trail.

He froze.

“Wait a moment!” He called - and the beast stopped, glancing back at him.

“What?”

“You’re not gonna eat anyone, are you?”

The beast rolled its eyes.

“Frogs are disgusting. No, I’m not going to _eat_ any of you. Christ.”

He squinted.

“What is this… _kee-rist?”_

The beast just stared at him for a moment.

“...Nevermind then.”

* * *

Sasha mumbled to herself as she followed the trail to… what was it the weirdo talking frog had said? _Wartwood?_

Real appealing name. Hopefully the town itself left a better taste in her mouth.

Alright, so frogs didn’t have religion. Awesome. That meant she wouldn’t have to deal with any nutjobs along the way, or Mormons knocking at her doors and trying to get her to stop eating crabs or whatever.

She needed a knife.

And an ally, among these smelly little frogs. A strong one that would vouch for her. Easily manipulated. Trusted. Loyal, preferably.

...Oh, right.

There was also the problem that she was apparently an alien creature.

Which… made sense, she supposed.

But that meant that she couldn’t approach anyone who would just kill her at first glance. Which, if that frog in the forest was anything to go by, wouldn’t be easy.

She was working at a massive disadvantage, looking like this.

...Unless, of course…

She speared some foliage out of her way, and prayed that no bugs would be crawling along this barren path.

Of course.

She had to get a disguise.

Boom, problems solved. She didn’t have to explain her presence, aside from a vague ‘just passing through’. She could get a good handle on the populous and figure out who to manipulate to get herself a good standing in this society. Maybe she could find a library, learn a bit more about this place. Particularly the politics - because making a misstep there would ruin her chances with many.

Alright, awesome. She had a plan. Sneak into town, get a disguise before sunrise, and start asking some questions.

Easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't really have anything to say here, so...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> With Love,
> 
> -Howard R.


	3. Flour and Daughter's Bakery

She had a disguise.

Okay, it was less a disguise and more a cloak. But, really, same difference. Anything that would shadow her face would work - and this certainly would.

She wasn’t sure what weirdos apparently hung their laundry at the Flour and Daughter’s Bakery, but whoever it was had a whole array of cloaks just… waiting to be stolen.

Really, she was just teaching them to be a little less trusting. Who left their laundry out in the open like this anymore?

Weirdos.

She considered the row of cloaks. Most of them were too short for her, but a few were oddly long - long enough that they’d probably drag on the floor behind someone short enough to wear these other cloaks. Maybe they wanted to look like a vampire or something - made sense, she supposed, considering most of the cloaks were big enough for a child.

And they had different colours.

Man, this mysterious whoever sure liked cloaks.

After much considering, she took down a midnight-blue cloak and fastened it to her lapel. She drew it closed, and inspected her figure in a nearby window.

Well. It was better then her disgusting uniform, anyway.

Right, knife. She needed a knife, ASAP.

...Hm.

Alright, this was going to be significantly more difficult. She’d rather not break into a house unless she absolutely had to, but she wasn’t going anywhere without a solid weapon.

...Maybe there was something down the road. She thought she saw some lights down there.

* * *

Marketplace.

They had a  _ marketplace. _

_ Have I always been this lucky, or…? _

And it would appear that Flour and Daughter’s, with their idiotic bakery, habit of wearing cloaks and general weirdness, was continuing to be her savior. She’d have to thank them sometime.

They had knives in their stall.

_ Oh, idiotic smelly frogs, where would I be without thee? _

A sardonic grin stretched across her face as she flipped a knife experimentally, securing it in her jacket. It had interior pockets, luckily - and it was good she’d been wearing it. It was starting to get a little chilly.

She had a weapon. She had a disguise.

Now she needed an ally.

Easily manipulated, but powerful. Trusted, but willing to work with her - which meant they’d have to be corrupt or easy to fool. It would be best to go for someone particularly stupid, but still well-liked.

She could go to the most opulent house in the neighborhood, but who knew. They could be a shrewd miser, who’d instantly report her to the cops.

No, her best move for now was to wait and watch.

...God, what she wouldn’t do for a cup of coffee.

* * *

Maddie noticed that one of her coats was gone the second she stepped outside and glanced at the clothes line.

Dad was asleep inside. Maddie always got up early. Usually  _ really _ early.

She hated sleeping, for a lot of reasons. The biggest one being all the time it wasted. If she slept eight hours a day, she’d waste an entire third of her life without being able to  _ experience  _ any of it.

The second biggest one was the nightmares that had started since she started using magic.

Either way, it had meant that her first curse had been on herself. A sleep deprivation one. It meant she was near-constantly tired, but she didn’t really mind that. It also gave her bags under her eyes that had started to look more like black eyeshadow than anything, but her eyes were already freaky as-is, so she didn’t mind that either.

It meant she only got four hours of sleep a day -  _ at best. _ More often closer to two.

It also meant that she was awake at five in the morning to get the laundry.

She dutifully collected the hanging robes, and Dad’s permanently stained apron. She brought them all inside and folded them, before setting them on a table by the side.

When Dad got up at six to open the store, Maddie didn’t mention the missing robe to him.

The rest of the day went by pretty much as normal. Nobody new came in. It was pretty slow.

She grinned when Ms. Croaker came in.

Croaker smiled at her. “Maddie, dear.”

“Hi Ms. Croaker,” she said - sounding a lot more croaky than the old woman in the room. She needed to hydrate better. “Here’s your order.”

Ms. Croaker smiled when she saw the tiny bread replica of herself. Maddie liked to shape the loaves like her customers.

She thanked Maddie, paid, and left.

Maddie always worked the counter until Dad got up. She loved all her customers. Well - except the mayor. He was usually very condescending - which was worse than being just plain rude, if you asked her. But Wally always brought something interesting to any interaction. Ivy was always perceptive as all hell - and funny, when she wanted to be. Usually with some form of sass. Sylvia was very polite. Loggle always thought before he spoke, and was quirky enough to be engaging. Even Stumpy, whenever he came in, was a lot more kind than he looked, and seeing what hand attachment he had this time was always fun. She liked to guess at what he had been doing based on said attachment; it was tougher than expected.

And, of course, seeing any of the Plantars was a good time.

Dad slept in that day. Maddie didn’t mind.

Wally came in next. He’d ordered some muffins.

He always had something interesting to say. And today was no exception.

“There’s somebody new in town!” he chirped, grin as wide as his accordion. 

Maddie’s eyebrows raised. “Someone new?”

“Yeah! A tall one, she is! Constantly got her hood up, though.”

Maddie squinted. “A hood?”   
  


“Yeah - she wears this blue cloak. Hides all her skin..”

Maddie thanked Wally for the news - and gave him the muffins. Blueberry. Wally always ordered a different flavour - it was one of the things Maddie liked most about him. Open to new experiences.

After he left, she stewed over the info.

It was her cloak, of course. This stranger must’ve stolen it. A tall girl, hm? Maddie should’ve asked more questions - but that might’ve made Wally suspicious. Did she seem young? What was she doing in town? Was she speaking to anyone?

...She’d just have to go figure out for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's currently still March 6th, 2021 in my timezone - meaning that the Amphibia hiatus is finally over! The second half of season 2 started airing today, and I couldn't be happier.
> 
> And, since I'm on an Amphibia kick, I decided to celebrate with a short chapter! No, this fic is not abandoned, btw. It won't be. Probably. If it is, I'll tell ya'll.
> 
> Not a ton happened this time. A little bit of Maddie, Sasha's got her disguise and is hanging around town - and the next chapter's set up thoroughly.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> With love,
> 
> -Howard R.


End file.
